Subconscious Sexy Sexabation

You rode a bubble up your dream and into bed. The words came out like stray vowels as your legs twitched.

Let’s walk on sweat together like twin Jesus figurines and find a neon place that plays only Mingus. Let’s discover the flavor of the moon.

I need you to bend me backwards, fold me up, stuff me into a French press, and squeeze some inspiration from me. Before you drink me let me have a sip.



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The Expired E-Possum

I found an expired possum
in my inbox
A dead person wants to be
my facebook friend
he’s liberated, so why
drag him back in?
Two nights ago I chased a dream
into my body pillow
and came up with it writhing-
neuron goo dumping
all over the sheets
I followed it into facebook:
it emerged as an unappreciated poke
wallowing in sorrow
To hear the atonal screams
of a tortured e-possum
is enough to turn me catholic again
I click “deny friend request”
and burrow a hole in my shag carpet
patiently anticipating the alarm
The sounds of industry whir and bang
to the west,
under the bed
a sleeping facebook snores for attention


Filed under poetry

We Are All In Jesus’ Kitchen

all around you there are sinners
loading chemicals and things
up their dry cracks
cramming things
into their mouths
and playing the lottery
in their hopeful minds


there are no such thing as angels


Jesus has eyes in your sock drawer
and at night he makes sounds
and you think it’s just
the house settling or
the humming of distant generators

yet it’s him
he’s there
crinkled up in the plastic bags
above the washer and dryer
watching and listening

he’s taking careful notes
regarding your credit score
your budgeting
your sex life
and your treatment of the animals-
even the ones chopped and frozen
in your freezer

you found heaven
in the squishy folds of a ripe
and Jesus saw that too

you almost made him smile


Filed under poetry, published work

Six Feet Over

turn the skyscrapers
upside down
to poke the earth
like dirty syringes

watch the worms
take to the air

I want my money back:
nobody told me outer space was a bad investment

please strap me loosely into my suit
and let me dig-dug underground for aliens

I want to see
what the beautiful women look like
when their nails are caked with dirt

I’ve paid my dues in this dimension
so show me where the rest of them are

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“I don’t have much left in me”
he said when the sky crashed in
and collided with the pool, creating
infinite vibrations, worlds smothering,
apartment complexes shaking at the root,
leasing agents bouncing helplessly
like fresh popcorn. He wondered if the
autistic kid in the water with the yellow noodle
saw all of this, the rapture,
but he seemed so wrapped up in his floaty toys
that nothing- not even the end of the world-
could interrupt his play.

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Instead of careening into
a mid-life crisis I found
myself thinned out and
spiraling through a neon
pharmacy sign. You all
wished me well and I never
looked back. There were
aliens hovering over the
apartment complex and
strange men taking photos
then running away before
I could catch them, but
somehow it was all ok, I had
my words and my patchwork
soul to remind me that in
the face of terror a happy
caged monkey resides, gnawing
on a silver banana and wishing
me well forever forth.

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Magic Plastic Glitter and Chocolate

I want you to take a shiny
platinum credit card from your wallet

hold it between your thumb
and your pointer finger

then make it disappear


It’s not so hard
since when you turn the plastic gem
on it’s side it becomes so thin
as to virtually not be there at all

there may be ten thousand dollars
floating mystically inside the injection molding
but it doesn’t really exist


So look at the thin side of the card:
the angle where in the right beam of sunshine
the platinum vanishes

now blow at that empty space between your fingers
like extinguishing a birthday cake


first out is the glitter,
the kind you find at party supply stores
a silver cloud whirling to your lawn

then come the rusty pennies
the fruit flavored thongs
the white pickets
the weed killer
the vitamin water
and the chocolate communion wafers

and finally your spouse emerges
holding a thin sheet of paper
indicating interest payments you can’t make

If you’re scared
just turn your hand and watch the card
magically become something like real again.

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